


Episode 1: New Addition

by orphan_account



Series: Blinding Light Season One [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batfamily, Blind!Damian AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Damian was born blind.  He doesn't know why his mother kept him, but he's here.  Being trained by assassins like everyone else, though he feels that he is never going to be as capable as the others.One day, for unknown reasons, he is sent to live with a father he is never meet and only head of.  He meets "brothers" he didn't know he even had.





	1. Much More

**Author's Note:**

> Read before: Okay, in this au Damian doesn't know that Bruce is Batman, Dick is Nightwing… He is still raised by the League of Assassins, but he doesn't know why he is sent. This is going to be wrote in one-shots.

Damian sighed as he sat down on the couch. He didn’t trust himself walking around the manor just yet. It was large. It would be easy to get lost in. Too easy to get lost in. The halls seemed to be endless. If he wanted to walk around he made sure to keep on hand on the wall and continue to aimlessly walk until her either found a room or someone stopped him.

It hasn’t been long since his mother dropped him off to live with his father. He missed the League. He knew those halls and could walk through them with ease. He knew every room and could identify it. When he wasn’t training, he would explore taking in the smells, touches, and sounds. Everything was foreign here in the manor. He hated it. Damian hated the feeling of not knowing where he was. Something he was so familiar with and he wished he wasn’t.

Sure Damian could fight with the best of them. Give him a sword and they’d be dead before anyone could figure out he was in there. He was still a liability. Damian had to be placed there in order to it. If the opponent moved around too much it was hard to locate them. If his move wasn’t calculated enough, he would be the one dead instead.

In all honesty, he knew how his grandfather and mother saw him. They wanted a perfect soldier, and instead they got him. The only one of their experiments that at first seemed to be perfect, but when he opened his eyes everyone was greeted with a milky-white color.

Damian would never understand why they allowed him to live. He’s positive that there was some unspoken plan. The boy didn’t dare ask about it. Damian had to learn from day one how to survive. Asking questions is how you die. You do as you’re told and that’s the end of the story.

The smell of coffee, sweat, and printer paper filled the room. Timothy Drake. Technically, his brother. Damian didn’t consider him one though. He was too nervous. Too stressed. Not someone that Damian wanted to be related too. Luckily, it was only by law that they were related. The two shared no blood.

Small steps came closer and closer to him. Drake was on his left, his feet shuffled. He wanted to slow down coming towards Damian. He didn’t want to be close to him and was most likely forced to come here.

“Um…Damian?” Drake’s voice asked.

It was quiet and strained.

“Yes Drake?” Damian replied, turning his head in his direction.

Three beats passed before Drake answered.

“Dick’s here,” he replied.

Damian has yet to meet Richard Grayson. From what Damian has collected, his father has adopted four children. The only two that he’s heard about are Drake and Grayson. The other two were blanks for him. He didn’t like this. He was the only one that has father’s blood.

Grayson is the oldest. He lived somewhere other than Gotham.

A small gush of wind hit Damian in the face.

“Um here, I’ll lead you,” Drake must be offering his hand.

Most of the time Damian would push the hand away and do his own thing, but the walls of the manor were unfamiliar to him. So, he took the extended limb. Even his hand was sweaty.

Damian didn’t voice his complaints, though. He simply let the older male lead him. He was about a step in front of Damian. Drake didn’t pull on his arm, but there wasn’t a lot of slack either. He went pretty fast though, so Damian stumbled a few times. The grip would change tightness too. A squeeze would become faint to be just below pain.

“I brought him,” Drake announced.

A rustle from the carpet made Damian turn his head.

“Hi, I’m Richard,” a male replied.

He was close enough for Damian to pick up his smell. Spice from his cologne, vanilla, and pastries. It was nice and made him feel more comforting. Damian stuck out a hand, not knowing if Richard had already done so. If he had he didn’t say anything.

“I’m Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne,” he replied while shaking the man’s hand.

It was large compared to his own. Not sweaty like Drake’s. Grayson’s hand was warm.

“So, you’re my new little brother?” he asked.

“It would appear so,” Damian replied.

Once their hands dropped, he heard the rustle of someone else leave. Damian felt a slight feeling of anger fill him at not being able to locate another person in the room.

“I’ll leave you to talk,” that was father’s voice.

“Okay Bruce,” Grayson replied.

When Damian couldn't hear his father footsteps anymore, he placed his hands his hoodie pocket. He didn’t know if anyone noticed the blood rush to his face. He felt his face warm.

“I’ve got homework,” he heard Drake from behind him and his footfalls too seemed to fall into the distance.

“Looks like it’s just us now,” Grayson said.

They were in the entrance of the house. If he had to guess the stairs were about ten steps behind him. It was going to take him forever to get this house mapped.

“So, the League of Assassins?” he asked.

“Yes, my mother thought it’d be best for me to stay here with father for a while,” Damian replied.

“So,” Grayson hesitated, seeming to try and find the words, “What do you know about Bruce?”

“He’s Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprise,” Damian replied. “His parents were murdered when he was eight.”

A few footsteps came closer to Damian, “Why don’t we go into to the living room?”

He took Damian’s hand and lead him.

Grayson’s steps were even, and not letting Damian get a head. His hand was welcoming as it encompassed Damian’s hand. Though unlike Drake, Grayson placed his other hand on his shoulder and helped guide. It was easier to move him around obstacles this way, but he didn’t like being this close to someone he just meet. Naturally, Damian went stiff. Grayson didn’t question it.

Soon he was guided to a couch. He shuffled back until the back of his knees hit the couch and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands into his lap.

He felt the other side of the couch dip where Grayson sat. He was close since Damian was able to smell his scent.

They talked.

Grayson would ask silly questions and Damian would answer them.

“What do you like to so?” he asked.

“To practice the sword,” was the reply.

“Sword?” Grayson’s voice was confused.

Damian found himself shrugging, “I am not helpless Grayson. Just because I can not see my opponent does not mean I cannot sense them. Everyone makes noise when they fight. I simply follow it.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Grayson back tracked. “You’re ten, right? I mean-“

“Age is just a number,” he replied.

Grayson didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Did Damian upset him for some reason? He tried to figure out if he said something.

“Did I offend you?” he asked.

Suddenly, Grayson wasn’t on the couch anymore, “What? No! I’m just surprised. Your Talia’s kid, right? I didn’t think that she’d put her own kid through things that trained assassins would have to go through.”

“I am a trained assassin,” Damian replied.

Grayson was now in front of him.

Grayson was strange. The boy didn’t understand why he acted the way he was. None of the others acted this way about him. No one acted this way towards him.

“You’re much more than that Dami,” he replied, his warm hand taking his.


	2. Rely On The Voice

The back of Damian’s hand brushed against his glass of water. Once he knew the location, he grabbed the glass and took a sip before setting it back down gently. He had his meal mapped out in his head. It was dinner, so Grayson and Father were talking to one another while Drake seemed to be in his world.

“I’m just taking a few weeks off,” Grayson replied. “I’ve got someone to cover for me back in Bludhaven until the Tuesday after next.”

“That’s good,” Father stated. “I’ve got a problem at work, so I won’t be present for about a week.”

Damian zoned in and out of the conversation. Nothing too interesting that they were talking about. His finger brushed against the cool polished table. He’s always liked textures. No two were the same.

“Don’t think you should stay? I’m pretty sure that other people can fix it,” Grayson replied.

Damian only grabbed his glass again.

Drake took a small intake of breath.

“Guys now is not the time to be talking about that,” Drake replied.

There was a pause. The pause was awkward. His glass froze over his face. Were they staring at him? Did he do something wrong?

Damian set his glass back down, “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” Grayson said a little too fast.

Growing up not being able to see a person’s facial expression you have to rely a lot on a person’s voice to tell you the emotions that someone might have. Damian focused on the speed something was being said, the amount someone was annunciating their words, their breathing…emotions were never something that Damian was good at anyway.   
There are four emotions that Damian labeled people with happy, anger, sad, and fear. There were more subgroups than that, but it’s easier for him to place each person under these four.

Grayson seemed to be naturally happy, but he heard his voice change to one of fear. It was odd. They were simply talking about work, so he left it at that.

These people were already weird enough, he didn’t need to be thinking about this too much.

Grayson was the one that leads him back to his room. The older did the same as he did before. A hand was placed on his shoulder and the other holding his hand. Grayson told him if there was a step and when they stopped.

“Can’t you get a cane?” he asked. “I mean, not to be rude, but wouldn’t that be easier?”

Damian shrugged as they got to the top, “Grandfather thought it’d be best if I learned to navigate the world without the help of tools.”

“Oh,” was all the older said.

Damian was guided to his bed. The mattress pushed the back of his knees. A hand lingered on his shoulder.

“Just call if you need anything,” he heard Grayson before his footsteps went into the distance.

Damian shuffled towards his bed, sitting down. Since he’s been here, Alfred gave him a tablet where he can listen to audiobooks. Back at the league, Damian loved it when his tutors read to him. Mother never kept them along for long though. Luckily, with the audiobooks, he didn’t need to rely on another person. He would simply place on his headphones than speak.

Reading was a downtime activity. One that he usually did before going to sleep. Most of the time in was braille, but now he could have them read to him instead.

“Scarlett Letter,” he spoke.

Soon enough, a female voice began to read from the passages.

It was times like this did Damian let his mind wander.

He thought about mother. How he had an image mapped of her. Tan skin, shoulder-length hair, a straight nose, and a sharp jaw. She was 5’7’’ and weight 115lb. She liked to wear a catsuit. She smelled of blood, like Grandfather. Damian was pretty sure the smell of blood was natural to any Al Ghul. Unlike grandfather, she also had a scent of lavender. 

Damian sometimes wondered if he smelt of blood. He’s killed before and he’ll probably do it again. At times the smell would get so stronger it made him gag, while at other times he couldn’t smell it.

The boy curled up on his side, the book was still being read to him.

He wanted to go back to the League. He didn’t want to have Drake as a brother. He wanted to explore the stone walls of the dungeons. He didn’t want Grayson’s strange kindness. He wanted his katana. He didn’t want two other mystery siblings.

He closed his eyes, though not going to sleep. Damian didn’t know how much time passes as he laid there in bed.

Someone entered his room though, causing him to be on high alarm.

A glove-covered hand stroked his hair.

Damian would have attacked if it wasn’t for the smell of spice, pastry, and vanilla.

He felt his headphones being taken off and set to the side. His blanket was placed over him too. The hand continued to stroke his hair. It was nice. No one has ever stroked him before.

“Give it time,” Grayson began to say. “He’ll make up his mind.”

With that, his door to his room closed. Grayson had left.


End file.
